


Mexico

by Shippershape



Series: Stretch & Dr. Goodkin [7]
Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, I think I gave Kirsten a little PTSd, but also fluff, but it's not too dark, the holiday fic that was barely even a holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shippershape/pseuds/Shippershape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a couple months after the finale. Maggie gives the gang a week off and they decide to spend it in Mexico. Kirsten is struggling with her new emotions, and realizes she never really got over what happened to Cameron. He tries to help her through it, but she hasn't told him everything. Camille loses the luggage, and Linus wants to go clubbing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mexico

“I don’t think this is what Maggie had in mind when she gave us a week off.” Kirsten muttered, folding a t-shirt and placing it carefully in her nearly empty suitcase. Camille watched her from the doorway, rolling her eyes.

“She said to take some time and relax after the whole Cameron-almost-dying, Les-trying-to-turn-you-into-a-weapon fiasco. I would say a week in Mexico is exactly what the doctor ordered.” The brunette said, striding over to peer into Kirsten’s suitcase.

“That was over three months ago. Why is she giving us time off now?” Kirsten wondered aloud. She dropped her only bathing suit, a plain navy one piece, into the luggage and then folded the lid shut.

“She couldn’t exactly let us go in the middle of the investigation. And that is so not all you’re packing.” Camille flipped the lid back open and surveyed the contents. “Oh my god, is this one of those Speedo one pieces?” She held the swimsuit up by a strap, turning to raise an eyebrow at her friend.

“I was on the swim team.” Kirsten muttered, snatching it back. “And we’re only going to be gone for a few days. I’m a light packer.” She eyed the cluster of bags sitting in the hallway outside her room. “Unlike some people.” Camille snorted.

“Listen, the agency is paying for our accommodations. And that includes baggage fees, so I just want to make sure I’m prepared for every occasion.”

“Right.” It was Kirsten’s turn to roll her eyes. “And what occasion are you expecting to run into where you’ll need a full length evening gown? It’s Mexico, Camille, not fashion week.” Just as she finished closing her suitcase, again, there was a knock on the door.

“Ooh.” Camille rubbed her hands together excitedly. “That’ll be the boys. Hurry up and finish packing, we have to be at the airport in an hour. And I expect you to fill that suitcase.” She added, pointing a finger at Kirsten as she rushed to answer the door. Kirsten sighed. She threw a couple more items of clothing into the suitcase and then hauled it into the entryway to greet Linus and Cameron.

Linus was wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt, a move which Kirsten found did not surprise her in the least, and Cameron was wearing a pair of grey board shorts and a tank top. Had his arms always been that muscular? Her mind wandered to his shirtless body in the corpse cassette, and the smile fell off her face. An increasingly familiar pain twinged in her chest. Camille and Linus were arguing, something about her luggage not fitting in the car, but Cameron grinned at her as she approached.

“Hey, Stretch. Got your tickets to the donkey show?” She just rolled her eyes. His gaze fell on her luggage. “Is that all you’re bringing?” Her suitcase was small, barely the size of a briefcase, and she set it down, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m a light packer.” She hoped this wasn’t going to be a subject of discussion the whole trip. Cameron shrugged.

“Okay. Let’s get this stuff loaded into the car. Linus, you’ve got Camille’s right?” He asked, grabbing Kirsten’s tiny bag and dashing out the front door.

“Wh-come on dude, wait. You’re bigger than I am!” Linus shouted after him, looking around at the half a dozen bags and suitcases sitting in the foyer. Kirsten grinned and shook her head, following Cameron out to the car. He’d already tossed her bag in the trunk, and was sitting in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio. It was a short drive to the airport, and it made the most sense for them to carpool seeing as neither Kirsten nor Camille had a car. She slid into the passenger seat, raising an eyebrow as Celine Dion came through the speakers.

“Really?” She asked. He frowned.

“I’m trying to find the traffic. We’re running a little behind, and-”

Kirsten put her hand on his arm.

“Cameron, it’s fine. We have lots of time.”

He turned to look at her, then glanced down at her hand. They hadn’t spoken about what Kirsten had seen when she Stitched into him. He knew only what she thought he needed to. That they hadn’t recovered the license plate, that it had somehow turned the volume on her own emotions way, way up, that they’d met as kids. That if he ever did anything like that again she would refuse to work with him and cut him out of her life. But she couldn’t bring up his memories without getting into a much deeper conversation, and she wasn’t sure she had a good enough handle on her newfound emotions to be ready for that.

She withdrew her hand just as Linus came stumbling down the sidewalk, invisible beneath all of Camille’s luggage. He dumped what would fit into the trunk along with Kirsten and the boys’ things, then piled the rest into the backseat.

“See, now we have to sit with all your stuff in the backseat. It was already cramped enough back there-”

“Relax, it’s like a twenty minute drive.” Camille said, rolling her eyes at Linus. Then her gaze fell on Kirsten and Cameron, both still leaning in towards each other. “Are we interrupting something?” She asked, a smile creeping onto her face. Cameron straightened in his seat.

“No.” He shook his head, maybe harder than he needed to. “Let’s get going.” Camille and Linus piled into the back, bickering the entire way to the airport, and Kirsten tried to identify the pain she got in her chest whenever Cameron was around.

They checked in without any problems, Linus’s mouth physically dropping open when he heard the quote for Camille’s luggage fees, and found a row of seats in the international terminal that were mostly vacant.

“You okay, Princess?” Cameron asked. Kirsten blinked at him.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were just pretty quiet on the way here. You know, even for you.” He flashed a smile. The pain in her chest throbbed, then lessened a little.

“I was just thinking.” She said. He looked curious, but didn’t press her.

It turned out that their seats weren’t together, they’d been split into pairs. Camille dragged Linus away by the hand, smacking him when he muttered something about the Mile High club, leaving Kirsten and Cameron to find their seats alone.

“I guess it’s just you and me.” He said, stopping short at row 13. He glanced at their tickets, then back at the row number.

“Is something wrong?” Kirsten asked, noticing the uneasy way he had clenched his fists. Cameron shot her a glance.

“Uh, no. Nothing.” He frowned. “Window or aisle?”

Figuring he was more likely to get up during the flight, Kirsten took the window seat. He buckled his seatbelt as soon as they sat down, and snatched the safety brochure from the pocket in front of him. A lightbulb went off in Kirsten’s head.

“Are you afraid of flying?” She kept her voice quiet. One of the things she’d learned since getting more in touch with her emotions was that people generally viewed their fears as weaknesses. She had once loudly made fun of Camille’s fear of the dark in the supermarket, and watched as her friend turned red and abandoned her in the middle of the produce section. Cameron was hypersensitive in general, so she figured it was a safe bet that he would be even more embarrassed of his fears.

“Of course not.” He snapped. Her eyes widened at the harshness in his voice. She felt a hollow ache settle into her stomach, and recognized it as resentment.

“Alright.” She moved her arm from where it had been resting on his seat, and edged a little closer to the window. One headphone was already in her ear when he spoke again.

“It’s just, we’re in row 13. They shouldn’t even have a thirteenth row on planes. It should be like hotels, where it goes from the twelfth floor to the fourteenth.”

Kirsten turned back to face him and noticed a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“So you’re superstitious?”

He looked caught. She sighed. The captain’s voice came over the speakers, thanking them all for their choice in airline, and then the stewardess began her safety demonstration. Kirsten wasn’t good with comforting words. Instead, she opted to distract him.

“I need your help with something.” She said. He was paying rapt attention to the woman waving her arms in the middle of the aisle, but he hummed in acknowledgement. “It’s to do with the Stitch.” She didn’t clarify which one, didn’t have to. He turned his attention immediately back to her.

“Okay. What’s up?” The fear on his face was gone, replaced with concern. This time for her.

“I told you my emotions were stronger since I’d stitched into you.” She began, watching his chest as his breathing returned to normal. He nodded. “There’s this one I can’t identify…it’s like a pain in my chest. It only happens when certain people are around, I’m sure it’s related to something I’m feeling.”

Cameron sat back in his seat, thoughtful. He gulped as the plane took off, seeming to calm when they were in the air.

“You gonna tell me who makes you feel like that?” He asked after a moment. She just fixed him with a hard look. He sighed. “Fine. That could be a lot of things though. It could be nerves, grief, anxiety, excitement…” He was watching her face as he listed emotions. Her face must have changed after one of them, because he leaned in, eyebrows furrowed.

“Grief.” She murmured, mostly to herself. It made sense, now that she thought about it. The mixture of pain and warmth that swelled in her chest whenever she saw him. It had to be some kind of residual grief, a product of her never properly dealing with her feelings about Cameron’s death. Confusion was written all over his face, and she reached out to brush her fingers across his cheek before she could stop herself. His eyes grew wide, but he didn’t pull away.

“Did something happen?” He asked, her fingers still on his face. She pulled back. He couldn’t know, could he?

“Why?”

He gave her a bemused look.

“Grief is a pretty strong emotion. It doesn’t usually just show up for no reason.” The focus on his face, like she was the only thing he knew in that moment, her and what she felt, it took her breath away. She clutched at her chest without thinking. Cameron tracked the movement, tilting his head as she curled her fingers, pulling at the fabric of her shirt. His mouth fell open in understanding. “Kirsten.” He breathed. She shook her head. This feeling was worse than it had ever been before. She couldn’t breathe, the tightness in her chest like a vacuum.

“Cameron.” She gasped. He reached out, one hand on her face the other on her shoulder.

“Okay.” He murmured, voice soft. “You’re having a panic attack.” She registered that with shock. A couple months ago she barely noticed her emotions, now they were so strong they threatened to shut down her central nervous system.

“I can’t…breathe.” She struggled.

“I’m right here.” He said, thumb tracing back and forth across the bare skin of her shoulder. “You’re fine. Just breathe.” Kirsten struggled to control her breathing, flashing back to the first stitch she’d ever done, the way her body had reacted when she jumped into someone else’s consciousness for the first time. Cameron’s voice in her ear. _You’re not alone. I’m with you. Trust me._ She felt those words like a punch to the gut. Her hands snaked out grabbing Cameron’s biceps, hard.

“Cameron.” She said again. He looked alarmed.

“Kirsten, you need to slow your breathing down, you’re hyperventilating. I know you can do it, you’ve done it before.” He was talking about the same memory that had just sent her panic attack into overdrive.

“Don’t.” She shook her head, gasping. “Don’t talk…about…that.” Puzzled, he just nodded again.

“Okay. Um , look out the window, at the…clouds. Breathe in…” He said softly. She did, fighting the pressure on her chest. “And out.” He walked her through that a few more times, and the tightness in her chest began to loosen. Exhausted and clammy, she sat back in her seat with a sigh. When she let go of Cameron’s arms, she noticed tiny red crescents where her nails had dug into his skin.

“And here I was trying to calm _you_ down.” She muttered, eyes closed. She heard him chuckle beside her.

“Well if you were trying to distract me, it worked.” He said. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. There were too many emotions on his face for her to read.

“I don’t know,” She said slowly. “how to fix this.” She stared right back at him.

“Has this happened before?” He asked, concern still etched all over his face.

“No, nothing like this, but… it hurts sometimes. Being around you.” She let that hang in the air between them. She knew he’d already figured out he was the one she was talking about. Cameron leaned back, away from her. There were a lot of emotions that she couldn’t read, but pain wasn’t one of them. His eyes were full of it as he turned to face forward.

“What do you mean?” His voice was neutral, a tone entirely unfamiliar coming from him. “What do you mean it hurts?” Seeing him in pain made the ache in her own chest flare.

“I mean it feels like something is being squeezed in my chest. It just hurts.” She shrugged, frustrated with her inability to voice her feelings. “I feel warm, and happy, but also sad and it just hurts. I don’t know.”

Cameron was silent, Kirsten couldn’t say for how long but it felt like an eternity.

“And you thought that this was a good time to tell me? Why would you even agree to go on a vacation with me if all it’s going to do is upset you?” He wondered. The hurt was back, this time in his voice.

“First of all, there was no way Camille was letting me out of this vacation.” She reminded him. “Second, just because it hurts sometimes, that doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to be around you. I would still rather be around you than anyone else.” He turned back to look at her with a new emotion. Anger, or frustration maybe.

“Okay, I don’t know what that means.”

“Well, neither do I.” She huffed. “I don’t know how to do this, alright? I have all these emotions, and it’s all new for me, and a lot of them are horrible. And you were supposed to be the one to help me figure them out, but when you were laying on that table and they couldn’t get your heart to start, that was when I started feeling everything. It was like fifteen years of emotions came rushing in at once and I couldn’t breathe, okay and I couldn’t see anything except your face. Your lips were blue, and your eyes were closed and all I wanted was for you to open them because it had been four minutes and I missed you already and I don’t miss people, Cameron. And all I could hear was that machine, that one long beep, and I couldn’t even hear myself screaming, but everyone else could. It _hurt_ , and it just never went away, alright? I know you’re fine, and I know you’re here. But I can still feel it.”

Her hand had traveled subconsciously to rest on her heart. But it wasn’t her own heartbeat she wanted to feel. She looked up at Cameron, and her chest throbbed at the way he was looking at her.

“It gets worse when you do that.” She whispered. He frowned.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that.” She told him. He blinked. “It gets worse when you make me feel…something.” It was her turn to frown, eyebrows drawing together in frustration. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what she always felt just before her chest would ache.

Cameron let out a long sigh.

“How about, for now, you just tell me when it hurts, okay Ace? And I’ll try not to…make it worse.” It didn’t sound like a great plan, but it was better than nothing. Out of nowhere, Camille appeared beside them.

“What are you two talking about? It looks like the morgue back here.” She joked. Kirsten’s chest gave a painful twinge and she reached out to grab Cameron’s hand. He glanced at her, but didn’t say anything.

“Just…my fear of flying.” He offered. Kirsten squeezed his hand in thanks.

“Well lighten up.” Camille commanded. “We’re on vacation.” They both nodded and she disappeared between the rows as quickly as she’d come.

“I’m tired.” It wasn’t until Cameron smiled at her that Kirsten realized she’d spoken out loud.

“I think panic attacks can do that to you.” He said. The anger she’d seen on his face earlier was replaced by something softer. “Why don’t you take a nap, we’ve got another five hours to go.” Considering that, she flipped up the armrest between them, settling her head in the crook of his neck. From there she could hear his heartbeat, a steady thumping that picked up a little when she pressed in closer.

“Thanks.” She muttered, not entirely sure what she was thanking him for. His breath was warm on her ear, voice low.

“I’m here, Stretch. I’m always here.”                      

As she lay like that the pain in her chest ebbed away, and his heartbeat lulled her off to sleep.

 

 

Mexico was colourful. It wasn’t just that Kirsten had never been, it was that stitching into Cameron had left her a little more sensitive to everything. The cab ride to the hotel had been interesting, Camille was apparently fluent in Spanish and had accused the driver of charging them twice the going rate. Kirsten understood the whole conversation, having been partially raised by a nanny Ed hired, a Panama native named Pilar. But she kept that to herself. She was distracted from Camille’s conversation, which had somehow ended up as a discussion of their mutual hatred of Donald Trump, when they pulled up outside the hotel. Linus whistled.

“Holy crap.” He swore, swinging the door open before the car had come to a complete stop. He stumbled out onto the pavement, staring up at the towering resort. Camille followed him out, locating the nearest bellhop and exchanging a few words before he began to unload the cab.

“Wow.” Kirsten jumped, not realizing Cameron had come up behind her. “Maggie went all out.” She hummed in agreement. The main building of the hotel was massive, a couple stories tall and covering at least a city block or two. As they made their way inside she saw that the entire thing was done in marble, tall ceilings arching into an open courtyard, and one of what she assumed were multiple pools.

As she was staring at the artwork on the wall, she bumped into a maid.

“Lo siento.” She apologized. The maid did the same, then offered her a glass of water from the jug she was carrying. Kirsten refused, but Linus appeared beside her and downed half a glass in one gulp.

“Man, you should have killed yourself ages ago.” Linus joked. The others seemed to be able to do that, joke about it, but the pain in Kirsten’s chest flared up again. She reached out without knowing what she was looking for, but calmed when she felt Cameron’s hand slip into hers.

“Should we go check out our rooms?” He asked. Kirsten glanced at the front desk.

“Shouldn’t we check in first?”

“Camille already took care of that. Come on.” He lead her through the expansive lobby to where the elevators were. “How are you feeling?” He whispered. She forced a smile.

“This helps.” She nodded to their hands. For the first time since the plane, he smiled genuinely at her. Their room was on the eighth floor, which turned out to be the penthouse.

“No way.” He mumbled, stepping out of the elevator. Kirsten held fast onto his hand, and he dragged her with him as he explored. The elevator opened directly into the suite, which seemed to take up the whole floor. The back wall was entirely glass, a panoramic view of the beach beneath them. It was furnished like a high end apartment, traditional finishes and a vibrant colour scheme somehow blending into something relaxing and homey.

Kirsten frowned.

“So it’s just one room then?”

Cameron stared at her.

“It’s basically a house. Come on.” He pulled her through the kitchen (stainless steel and granite), an entertainment centre (white wall with a projector), the main bathroom (carved marble) and finally wound up down a hallway that seemed to branch off into a set of bedrooms. “Wait.” He let go of her hand, sticking his head in one door, and then the other.

“What?” Her hand had gotten a little sweaty, even though the air conditioning in the penthouse was on full blast. She wiped her palm on her thigh.

Cameron turned back to look at her, disappointment on his face.

“There are only two bedrooms. It looks like they’ve done double masters.” He explained, gesturing at the doorways. Kirsten strode forward, checking them out for herself. He was right. Both rooms featured a massive California king, a big screen tv and a door that she could only assume lead to an en-suite bathroom. But the third door off the hallway was a linen closet. It looked like Maggie hadn’t thought this through. Even if she knew, and somehow miraculously approved of Camille and Linus’s on again/off again romance, they were still one room short. She surveyed what appeared to be the slightly bigger room, then turned to face Cameron, hands on her hips.

“This one’s ours.” She said, pointing inside. He gaped at her.

“What?”

“Well there’s only two. We’re going to have to share. And this one’s bigger.” She informed him, making her way inside to check out the bathroom. She could hear his flip flops slapping against the hardwood as he followed her.

“Say again, Stretch?”

She rolled her eyes.

“There are only two rooms. We’re here for 6 nights, and I certainly don’t want to sleep on the couch for that long. Besides, that bed is huge.” She didn’t add that the plane was the first time she’d slept without nightmares since he’d stopped his heart. Need to know. It was becoming her new policy. “Wait.” She swiveled to face him. He looked like he was still processing their sleeping arrangements.

“What?”

“Where’s our luggage? Shouldn’t it have beaten us up here?” She asked. They both wandered back into the main living area, then circled the entire suite one more time. Their luggage was nowhere to be seen.

There was a ping as the elevator doors opened, and then a familiar pair of arguing voices. Kirsten stood in the hallway waiting, arms crossed over her chest. When Camille and Linus rounded the corner, they stopped.

“Kirsten? What’s wrong?” Camille asked. Cameron cleared his throat.

“Where’s our luggage?” Kirsten asked innocently. Camille looked around.

“Probably up here somewhere?” Kirsten shook her head.

“Mmm no. It’s not. Tell me, did you actually check to see whether that guy you handed all of our things to worked for the hotel?” She asked. Camille’s mouth fell open in horror.

“No.” She said, eyes wide with panic. “No, no, no!” She dashed back into the elevator, dragging Linus with her. His voice carried into the living room as Kirsten retreated to the couch.

“I told you to just carry your own bags, but _nooo_. Primadonna over here just had to have someone else do it for her. Why can’t you just-”

Kirsten and Cameron were spared the rest of that argument when the elevator doors slid shut. She shifted in her seat, rubbing her forehead in irritation.

“So.” She said, throwing her hands in the air. “What do we do now?”

Cameron considered that for a moment.

“The bar?” He suggested. It was the best idea Kirsten had heard all day.

               It was there that Camille found them later, both already a couple of very strong Pina Colada’s deep.

“Soooo.” She smiled angelically at them. Kirsten stared at her expectantly.

“Did you find our things?”

Camille’s smile widened. It looked painful.

“Yeah….they’re gone.” She said. Kirsten sighed. Behind her, Cameron dropped his head onto the bar top.

               “So we don’t have any clothes?” Kirsten asked. At this, Camille actually seemed to perk up.

               “Actually, the hotel is claiming responsibility since that guy was wearing a hotel uniform. So they’ve agreed to pay to replace all our stuff. Which means,” She grabbed Kirsten by the arm. “-that we’ve got some shopping to do.” Kirsten glanced helplessly at Cameron as Camille dragged her away. He shrugged, looking apologetic. He would pay for that later.

               After what seemed like hours of shopping in the hotel’s boutique, Kirsten staggered out of the elevator, nearly collapsing under the weight of their purchases. A pair of hands appeared, taking some of the bags and allowing her to stand up straight.

               “What did you buy?” Cameron looked afraid at the sheer volume of their packages. Kirsten couldn’t blame him.

               “ _I_ didn’t buy anything. Camille bought, well, everything.” She dumped the rest of the bags on the floor and dropped onto the nearest couch.

               “Hey.” Camille strode in behind her, carrying another load of clothes. “Half of this is for you.”

               Linus walked in from the kitchen, having changed from his orange shirt into a pair of swim trunks and a green polo shirt. Clearly they hadn’t been the only ones shopping.

               “Well.” He said, sticking his face in a couple of the bags Camille was carrying. “Now that we’ve all got our bathing suits, how about we hit the beach?” Camille grinned and raced toward the bedroom, a bikini in her hand. Kirsten turned to the pile of clothes that were apparently hers, and began rifling through them for a bathing suit. Cameron sat down beside her.

               “How are you doing?” He checked in. She had a feeling this was going to become a regular occurrence. The thought didn’t bother her as much as it once might have.

               “I was great when I was on my way to being drunk.” Kirsten said, finally finding a bathing suit and holding it up. It looked like the lingerie she’d bought after stitching into the party girl who’d been murdered. She continued to look through the bags, but all the other suits she found were just as bad, or worse. She stared at the one in her hand, sighing. “Now I’m painfully sober.” Cameron coughed.

               “Is that legal?” He wondered, eyeing the suit. She shrugged. They were on vacation after all.

               “I guess we’ll find out.”

               She locked herself in the en-suite bathroom to change, throwing a plain blue shift-style cover up that cost more than her computer over top of the bikini.

               “Alright.” She emerged to find the rest of her companions waiting for her. “Let’s go.”

               The beach was beautiful, and exclusive to resort guests, so they had no problem finding a spot close to the water. Staff milled around the guests, setting up cabanas and umbrellas and bringing out trays of drinks. Kirsten managed to snag someone long enough to request a bucket of beers. She was beginning to miss her buzz from earlier.

               Camille stripped off her cover up and ran for the waves, Linus close behind her.

               “Into the drink, Stretch?” Kirsten closed her eyes as Cameron lay on the lounge chair next to her.

               “What’s wrong with me?” She asked him. His chair squeaked as he turned to look at her.

               “I don’t know.” He said honestly. She bit her lip.

               “Why can’t I let this go?”

               “I don’t know.” He said again. Their waiter appeared with two buckets of Coronas. Kirsten thanked him and gave him a generous tip. “That’s a lot of cervezas.” Cameron observed. She reached into the bucket and handed him one. They were both quiet for what Kirsten assumed was a few minutes. She finished her first beer well before he did, and squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. It was hotter than she was used to, even in LA, and they had opted not to get a cabana. She had lathered herself in sunscreen before they left, but she’d forgotten how doing that could trap the heat. She felt like she’d been laminated. She sat up, tugging the shift over her head and breathing a sigh of relief as the fresh air hit her skin. She folded it over the top of her chair, and turned to get another beer.

               “You want another?” She asked. When she didn’t get a response, she glanced behind her. Cameron was staring, lips parted, beer hanging carelessly from his fingers. The way he was looking at her curled heat in Kirsten’s stomach. She’d almost forgotten what she was wearing. The suit was one of Camille’s picks, a black two-piece with less fabric than most of Kirsten’s socks. The bottoms were held together at the hips with silver hoops, and the miniscule triangles that made up her top was held in place with a double set of straps that crossed her back. She felt like an extra in a 1990’s music video. Cameron, however, didn’t seem to mind.

               Unsure of how long he’d been staring, she waved the beer at him again.

               “Cameron?” He snapped out of it, looking away as red flamed across his cheeks. It seemed to go all the way down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his t-shirt.

               “Nope.” He muttered. “Nope, thanks, I’m good.” She shrugged, prying the cap off and taking a sip. He could pretend he wasn’t affected, but then so could she.

Feeling immensely better as she finished off her second beer, Kirsten had an idea.

“I’m going to go for a swim.” She said. As she got up, she held out her hand. “And you’re coming.” He hesitated, but took her hand. She made a noise of impatience.

“What?”

“Are you going to wear your shirt in the water?” She asked. He glanced down, like he’d forgotten. His hand hovered at the back of his neck, but he didn’t pull off his shirt. Kirsten dropped his hand to place both of hers on his face. “Cameron. It’s just a scar.” He avoided her eyes.

“It’s just…not exactly attractive. People always stare. I thought I was over it, but then I saw you and-you’re perfect.” His words stirred something inside her, a need she couldn’t identify. Not lust exactly, but something. A different kind of intimacy.

“You just can’t see my scars.” She said quietly. “And there’s nothing unattractive about this.” She ran her hand over his shirt where she knew it sat over the red line. “It just means you’re a survivor. And I think these days that’s something I need to be reminded of.” Their eyes met, and he nodded. As he pulled his t-shirt over his head, Kirsten was intensely aware that he was doing it for her. She felt a pressure behind her eyes. It would be ridiculous to cry, so she clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms until the pressure went away.

The water was deliciously cool as they dove in, and it woke her up from the haze she’d been carrying around for the past few months. There was something about the sun on her face, the salt on her lips, the cool water lapping at her neck that pulled her back into herself. She hadn’t realized until then how far inside the darkness she’d retreated. An arm snaked around her waist, dragging her toward the deeper water. She lifted her feet from the sand, content to let Cameron pull her. A sense of peace washed over her, and she stroked her thumb across his forearm. He said something behind her, and she moved to plant her feet so she could turn around, but they were in deeper than she thought. Her head plunged beneath a wave, feet digging for a floor that wasn’t there. Unconcerned, she popped back above the surface with one swift kick. The arm around her waist tightened, and Cameron’s face came into focus as she blinked away the salt water.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” His concern was so familiar that it soothed her.

“I’m fine.” She waved her hand as if to demonstrate. When she looked back at the beach she realized how far out they’d come. He must have been swimming for at least ten minutes. “Oh.” She murmured. The people on the beach looked like ants.

“Right.” He groaned. “Temporal dysplasia. I guess I forgot.” She smiled at him.

“Me too.”

They floated around for a while, treading water. Cameron chattered about cooking and she just listened to the sound of his voice. She’d never really understood the appeal of beaches, but this, like everything else she did with Cameron, was good in a new way. It felt like they were completely alone on the planet when she turned to face the ocean. It was just them and miles of water.

               “Cameron.” She interrupted his thoughts about a new recipe for butternut squash.

               “Yeah?”

               “I’m sorry if what I said earlier hurt you.” He was quiet, eyes unreadable.

               “You didn’t mean to.” He finally said. She could hear that he believed it.

               “Does that matter?” She wondered. “It hurts all the same.” Suddenly he was right beside her, she could feel his legs bump against hers as they both kicked softly to stay afloat.

               “Are we still talking about me, Blondie?” His lips were nearly touching her ear, and she shivered despite the heat.

               “I’m not sure.” She admitted.

               “I’m sorry,” He said slowly, arms circling her waist. She held her breath. “I’m sorry that what I did caused you so much pain. I was _trying_ to protect you.” She could hear that he meant that, too.

               “I know.” She murmured, a little breathless.

               “We should head in.” He said, suddenly breaking away. “You’re starting to look a little pink.” Her gaze followed his, taking in the subtle flush on her pale skin. She grabbed his hand, placing it back around her stomach.

               “Pull me.” It was a demand, not a request. He laughed, but obliged, towing her back to shore.

 

               The rest of the night was a blur. They all showered and changed, deciding they were too tired to go anywhere but the hotel restaurant for dinner. The food was good, and the music was excellent, but all Kirsten really registered was how content she was to be there. The peace she’d felt earlier hadn’t disappeared, and she rested her head on Cameron’s shoulder as they rode the elevator back to the penthouse.

               “Mm sleepy.” She mumbled into his clavicle. His chest vibrated beneath her as he laughed.

               “Okay, Stretch. Time for bed.” It had been a long day, and she was more than ready to crawl into bed. If she was being honest, the knowledge that Cameron would be right beside her only made it more appealing.

               “I mean we could hit the clubs though. It’s only midnight.” Linus suggested. For some reason he was the only one out of the group who wasn’t completely exhausted. He seemed to be glowing with energy. Kirsten just groaned, Cameron along with her.

               “What? No way man. Count me out.” He grabbed Kirsten’s purse and headed towards their bedroom. Linus turned to Camille.

               “Come on, what do you say? I know you like to dance.” He winked. Camille frowned.

               “If I say no, are you going to go by yourself?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. It was a loaded question, Kirsten hoped he was smart enough to realize that. He barely paused before answering.

               “No. Of course not.”

               Camille grinned.

               “Well, alright then. How about we go to bed?” She asked, her smile turning devious. Kirsten groaned, internally this time. Whoever had designed this penthouse with the bedrooms so close together had clearly never travelled with a friend like Camille. She bid both of them goodnight, then went to find Cameron. He was sitting on the bed in a pair of boxers, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read something on his phone. Her heart gave a little kick, not painful like the others, almost electric. He looked up when she came in.

               “I forgot to pick up a new charger.” He waved his phone at her. “Phone’s dying.” She sat down beside him, leaning back into the pillows.

               “Well.” She mused. “That just means Maggie won’t be able to get a hold of you. And I think you deserve a night off the roster.” She rolled to face him. “I’m too tired to get up.”

               He waited, obviously realizing that was about to be followed by a request.

               “Can you throw me some pajamas? There must be something in one of those bags that I can wear to bed.” She didn’t bat her eyelashes, or smile flirtatiously. But he got up anyways, shaking his head with a rueful smile on his face.

               “What a princess.” He mumbled, crouching down to sift through the mound of garment bags and tissue paper. Kirsten leaned back into the pillows. Cameron made a strange noise, and she opened one eye to peer at him.

               “What’s taking so long?” She asked.

               “You don’t know how long it’s been.” He said, not turning around. She bit her lip to stop the smile.

               “Maybe I timed you.”

               “Did you?”

               “No.” She muttered. He chuckled. Finally, he turned around, a pink bag with French writing in one hand. He set the bag down in front of her.

               “Unless you want to wear that,” He nodded at the bag. “I think your best bet is a bathing suit.” She grabbed the bag and dumped it’s contents onto the bed. It was hard to make out exactly what some of the garments were, but they were all lacy, sheer, and absolutely not an option. She huffed out an irritated breath.

               “ _Camille.”_ She muttered. Then she turned to Cameron. “Can I borrow a t-shirt?”

               “Uh.” He paused, then nodded. “Sure.” He went to the closet, to grab one of the new ones that he’d already hung up, but Kirsten shook her head.

               “No, just give me the one you wore to the beach.” It had looked soft, and she didn’t feel the need to dirty a new shirt. He gave her an odd look.

               “It’s dirty.” She rolled her eyes.

               “You wore it for an hour. It’s fine.” She held out her hand. He shrugged, grabbing it off the chair he had hung it on, and tossed it to her. She had to fight the urge to press it to her face. With a great sigh, she pushed herself up, grabbed something white from the pile of lace in front of her, and headed for the bathroom. She changed into the t-shirt, and what could passably be called boyshorts. The shirt smelled like him, a mixture of soap and cedar and beach. It washed over her like a deep breath, and she could feel sleep waiting behind her eyes. She threw the bathroom door open.

               “You need to brush your teeth?” She called out, grabbing one of the unopened toothbrushes on the counter and tearing it open. Cameron appeared, averting his eyes from her reflection. She handed him the other toothbrush, and he took it silently. They finished brushing their teeth side by side, and Kirsten washed off the little makeup she’d put on for dinner. It domestic and intimate, and she felt his eyes on her legs as he followed her back into the bedroom. She crawled into bed and he walked over to hit the light, by the time he made it back she was safely tucked beneath the sheets.

               The silence was heavy, broken only by their breathing and the barely audible hum of the air conditioning.

               “Night, Stretch.” He sounded far away, the bed was big enough that there were caverns of room between them. She found she didn’t like it.

               “Night.” Sleep took her instantly, like it had just been waiting for her to close her eyes.

 

               She woke to a crash, sitting up with a start.

               “Wh-” She glanced over at Cameron, who had closed most of the distance between them in his sleep. His arm was splayed across her stomach, and he was sound asleep. Another noise broke the quiet, a moan, and then-

               “Oh my god.” She muttered. She’d never heard two people have sex so loudly in real life. Beside her, Cameron stirred. His hand caught her hip as he flexed, and then let go quickly as he realized what he was doing. He looked up at Kirsten, who was sitting with her head in her hands.

               “What’s going on?” His voice was rough with sleep, and it sent a shiver of lust down her spine. She recognized that for exactly what it was. Ignoring it, she pointed to the door. Another moan rang out, followed by a noise she didn’t even want to identify. Cameron’s eyes widened. Then he frowned at her.

               “How long have you been up?” He asked. She cocked her head, staring at him. “Oh.” He muttered. “Right, sorry.”

               “I don’t think long.” She answered. She collapsed back onto the pillows with a growl. “How can they possibly be this loud?” Unthinkingly, she moved in closer so their shoulders were touching. She felt him shrug.

               “They’re both very…enthusiastic in general. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.” He said. He was right, but it didn’t make her feel better. She sat up again, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Where are you going?”

               “I’m going to ask them to keep it down.” She said. He grabbed her wrist.

               “Oh, Ace, just leave them be. We’re on vacation. It won’t last forever, trust me.” Kirsten frowned.

               “You don’t know Camille.”

               He seemed distracted by that thought, and she smacked him.

               “I’m just saying. Let them have their fun. We can sleep in all day tomorrow if you want to.”

               Something about the way he said that, _we_ , conjured images of them in bed, him propped up against the headboard with his glasses on, reading one of his nerd magazines. A lazy morning. It sounded unbelievably good to her. She settled back into bed with a sigh.

               “Fine.” They lay barely touching like that for a while, and she started to drift off. The nightmares started as she’d barely fallen asleep, and she jerked awake with a cry.

               “Kirsten?” Cameron’s face was there, but not really. Blue lips flashed where his were pink and parted in concern, cold skin ghosted where his was warm against her. She couldn’t separate the memory from the man in front of her. Strong fingers wrapped around her arms, squeezing gently.

               “Don’t-” She pleaded. “Cameron don’t do this.”

               “Don’t do what?” The face swimming before her looked confused.

               “Wake up, wake up!” She sobbed. The version of him in front of her looked stricken.

               “Hey, I’m here. I’m okay. Just look at me, Stretch.” He stared down at her, and she tried to focus her eyes. Eventually he came into focus, eyes big and nervous. She grabbed his shoulders and tried to remember to steady her breathing.

               “I’m sorry.” She gasped. He grunted.

               “Don’t be sorry. Just-” He pulled her in, laying back so that she was resting on his chest. His heartbeat thrummed through his skin, and she pressed her ear against it. “-here.” He mumbled into her hair. She closed her eyes.

               “This is my favourite sound.” She whispered, not caring that she was raw from the nightmare and her walls were entirely down. His breath caught in his throat.

               “I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” She nodded against his skin.

               “I have to tell you something.” She murmured. It was exhausting, keeping this secret. There was too much space between them with her holding his memories in her hands. She couldn’t do it anymore.

               “Okay.”

               “When I stitched into you, I saw me. Everywhere. All the memories I was pulled into, all the ones that were important to you, they were all of me.” His chest stopped rising, and she felt alarm raise in her stomach before realizing he was holding his breath. “I could feel how you felt about me. I know. I didn’t before but…since the stitch I’ve known.” He released his breath all at once, and she could feel him tense beneath her.

               “You didn’t say anything.” He finally said.

               “No, I didn’t.” She wondered if he would hate her for it. The idea sent her pulse spiking again.

               “Why?”

               “Because I knew I would have to tell you how I felt. And I didn’t know yet.” She said. It occurred to her that she did, now. All it had taken was one more nightmare. Cameron caught that too.

               “Yet? But you know now?” He said it slowly, carefully. A little fearfully.

               “I love you.” It wasn’t a revelation for her. Now that she knew, it was instantly familiar. She loved Cameron Goodkin, his ridiculous glasses, the way he cared in a million ways that she almost always missed in the moment, his scar. She ran her fingers over it as she thought. She hated the fact that he would die for her. She’d gone through it once, and she knew he would do it again, and she hated that more than anything. But he was the only one who had ever made her feel. He infuriated her and delighted her and held the power in his hands to unmake her. She thought back to an earlier memory of him, them standing in her house, his eyes soft and on her, always on her. _Is it worth it?_

               “You love me.” Cameron spoke, and Kirsten realized it had probably been a while since either of them had. He sounded doubtful.

               “I do.” She said, reminding herself that he wasn’t like her. He needed time to process things.

               “I don’t-” For a second she thought he was going to say he didn’t feel the same way anymore. Her heart stuttered in her chest. “Are you _sure_?” He asked. She smiled against his neck. Somewhere along the way his quirks and insecurities had become endearing.

               “I’m pretty sure.” She propped herself up on her forearms, still resting on his chest. She scanned his face, trying to read the emotions there. It was more difficult in the dark. He looked so impassive, she hesitated. “Have you changed your mind?” Theoretically, if he said yes, she would be over it instantaneously. It was simply how her mind worked. But it didn’t feel that easy. It felt messy, and nerve-wracking, and painful.

               “What? No. I haven’t changed my mind.” He narrowed his eyes at her, as though trying to see something that wasn’t there. She waited, but her pulse sped up, and she knew he could feel it. “God, are you actually asking me…” He trailed off, eyes bright even in the dim light. Suddenly, he was crushing his lips to hers, rolling both of them so he was pinning her to the mattress. She snaked her arms around him, pressing the space between them into nonexistence. He groaned her name as she wrapped her legs around his waist. It was enough of an answer for her.

 

               The next morning Kirsten woke in a tangle of limbs and Egyptian cotton. Her back was pressed against Cameron’s bare chest, his face in her hair. She didn’t want to move, but her body had other ideas. At first, she tried to extricate herself without waking him, but one of his arms was wrapped around her, and the hold he had on her breast was unbreakable.

               “Cameron.” She whispered. He grunted, but didn’t move. “Cameron!” He snored gently in response. She sighed. Changing tactics, she wiggled her hips, pressing her into his groin. He moaned, shifting behind her, and she took advantage of that to spring out of bed. He blinked at her, scowling.

               “That’s not nice.” He told her. She shrugged.

               “It was my only way out. I’m starving.” She found the t-shirt that had been discarded the night before, and tugged it on. Cameron still lay on the bed, frowning. “Come on. Let’s eat. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.” She held out the pair of boxers that had been tossed onto the floor beside her shirt. He sighed, reaching for his glasses. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” She said, throwing the boxers at him and noting that he was clearly not a morning person.

               She found a couple of the fruit plates that the staff had sent up and set them on the counter. She was just grabbing some juice when he came up behind her, his lips on her neck as he mumbled good morning.

               “Woah!” Linus’s voice floated in from behind them. Kirsten turned, but Cameron put an arm around her waist, his face unapologetic, almost possessive. She liked that more than she probably should. “What have we here?” Linus asked, grabbing a piece of pineapple off the island. Camille padded in behind him, looking sleepy but somehow still devious.

               “Do you even have to ask?” She challenged, taking in Kirsten’s outfit with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not like we couldn’t hear them last night.” She popped a grape into her mouth, chewing with a sly smile on her face. “Seriously though, could you guys keep it down? Some of us were actually trying to sleep.”

               Kirsten made a strangled noise, and Cameron physically had to hold her back as she launched herself at Camille. They made it through breakfast without any violence (miraculously), and spent the day snorkeling. At first Kirsten hadn’t been interested in the fish, but Cameron knew most of them by name, and started chattering excitedly whenever a rare species appeared. The way his eyes lit up made the entire outing worth it, and if he was surprised when she interrupted his monologue on the rare Hawaiian Spotted Parrot fish to kiss him senseless, he didn’t complain. They paid a local with a truck to take them back to the hotel, and as they sat in the back and watched the sunset, Kirsten found herself feeling uncharacteristically sappy.

               “It was worth it.” She said, to no one in particular. Cameron was sitting with his back against the truck bed, one arm around her shoulder. He traced a pattern on her skin, fingers rough from his work with the lab equipment.

               “What’s that Stretch?” He asked lazily.

               “You.” She said.

 

 


End file.
